


Suspension

by Elizabeth Klarke (cyanideparty)



Series: Adolf & Eva Collection [8]
Category: Adolf Hitler - Fandom, Historical Criminals RPF, Historical RPF, Real Person Fiction, Third Reich - Fandom, World War 2 - Fandom
Genre: Adolf Hitler - Freeform, Blow Jobs, Eva Braun - Freeform, Eva Hitler, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Historical, Inspired by Real Events, Nazi Germany, Oral Sex, Romance, Third Reich, World War II
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2019-04-30 19:35:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyanideparty/pseuds/Elizabeth%20Klarke
Summary: This was what addiction was, wasn’t it. This was obsession.





	Suspension

The only thing signaling to either of them that time was still moving was that the light coming into the room continued to change. The love operated within a time-capsule. Utterly private and locked away, buried and kept from undeserving eyes. There were only hints of its existence to the outside world. It was easily overlooked; but if one knew _where_ to look, it was impossible to unsee all of the markers.

However, things within these rooms really didn’t change, except for the light or the particles of dust that never had a chance to accumulate on the furniture: the only witnesses to such raw intimacy between a dictator and his young lover. They were always swept away, like victims that had been targeted by hitmen because they’d seen too much.

And they had seen too much. They’d seen a marriage that wasn’t supposed to exist. And on paper, it didn’t. But physically, here it was, living within this time-capsule in all its glory. In all its normalcy. In all of his “How are your parents doing?” and her “How have your headaches been?” and his “Why don’t you wear that blue dress more often? I like that one,” and her “Why do you continue to wear those shoes? I bought you much nicer ones that are far more chic.” In all of its eye rolling and its sighs and its forehead kisses and its looks of worry over the smallest of things: tardiness, a missed phone call, a word dropped that subtly broke the fluidity of familiarity in a written letter.

Things continued to change and shift outside, sometimes quite rapidly. But they didn’t in these rooms. She never wavered or stepped an inch to the side. She never left, never showed or whispered of any desire to leave. No matter his mood. He could be an asshole, and she’d cry and get terribly upset, but she was always there when he finally went to her to patch it up. She’d assure him she’d be there when he did it again, and he could find both the humor and comfort in that.

She was his constant. The constant he very much needed. The dustmotes could see that clearer than anyone else in the house. But so could she

She could see the light had changed again. “How long has it been?” she panted. She was lying on her stomach. The room had become heavily shadowed, and it felt very warm. Or maybe it was her that was very warm.

“I don’t know,” he mumbled in a low voice against the skin of her back, just below the base of her neck. _And I don’t care,_ she filled in. She could hear him thinking it. “Does it matter?” he exhaled hotly between her shoulder blades, his teeth sweeping across her skin with every word and instantly making her nipples hard again. “Everyone’s asleep.”

“No. It doesn’t matter,” she sighed meekly, her fingers fisting themselves into the pillow her head was resting on. Her teeth pressed into her bottom lip. Her toes curled. She could feel her body resetting, readying itself for another round. “I just always forget about time when I’m with you.”

Forgot, or chose not to pay attention? What was the difference. Was there any difference? God, he made her head spin. She briefly questioned whether they were on the mountain or in the apartment. For a moment, she’d forgotten, and it was so dark now. He could’ve delivered a marriage proposal and it wouldn’t have registered. Her brain was too clouded, whirling unsteadily without any breaks or any sort of foundation.

She felt so weak, and so drunk. She’d only had one glass of champagne that evening. Yet she was sinking further into the mattress beneath him, further into decadence. At least, that’s what it felt like. But she’d decided long ago if she was to be damned to Hell in the afterlife, well, this would all be worth it. She wouldn’t put up a fight. Let the Devil take her for breaking the rules in loving this Angel.

She felt him smile against her warm flesh. “I’m aware. It’s a lovely compliment.” His mouth traced a line down her spine, and he heard her turn her head into the pillow and moan. Then he moved his mouth to her ear, placed his hand between her thighs, and murmured, “However, this is a far superior one,” as he casually moved his fingers up and down between the lips of her vagina. They faced no amount of friction or disagreement from her saturated sex.

She lifted her hips up off the mattress just a bit, desiring to give him greater access. She wanted his fingers to travel farther forward until they hit her responsive and increasingly demanding clitoris. But he had a different idea in mind.

He tucked her hair back behind her ear; and with his lips still moving against her ear he told her, “Turn over.” His heated breath sent goosebumps darting across her skin and made her sex throb madly. She grinned and enthusiastically flipped onto her back, and he smiled wolfishly down at her, his face only inches away. His fingers were still busy between her thighs. “Are you ready for me again so soon, Evchen?”

Rhetorical. Of course she was. She was always ready for him. No _I have a headache_ or _I’m too tired_ or even a _Just give me a minute_ from this girl. Her appetite for him was utterly insatiable. He could fuck her every day of that week and come Sunday evening, she’d be looking at him with hazy bedroom eyes again, biting at his ear, and sneaking her fingers under his shirt collar and the waistband of his trousers after they’d retired for the night.

She took his face in her hands and brought his mouth to hers, her lips laced lavishly with desire and fervor. Every part of him was intoxicating on her tongue: his mouth, his skin, his cock. She took his bottom lip between her teeth and fondly nipped at him. “Let me taste you,” she breathed, her words falling directly across his lips and onto his tongue. He could taste the tang of the champagne she’d drank in his study before they’d left for her bedroom. And a trace of fresh strawberries.

“Whatever you’d like,” he breathed a bit dizzily back into her. Who was he to deny her what she craved? No, he would only too happily indulge her here. He did enjoy making her happy, after all. He liked telling her _yes_. Almost as much as he liked what she could–and loved to–do to him with her mouth. She always did it with such spirit.

She smiled. She started kissing him again. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and gradually maneuvered him onto his back and herself on top of him. She pushed herself up onto her hands and knees, straddling his body, without breaking their kiss. Then her mouth moved down his jaw, down his neck, down his chest, down his stomach, until she had his erection firmly in her grasp with her tongue running across her lips in a deliberately provocative manner.

As he watched her, he thought about how once upon a time she’d been taught among nuns. It was amusing. Because she’d been entirely willing with him from Day One. And there’d hardly been any learning curve with her. She’d been a fast learner, an eager student beneath him. Especially for a girl taught among nuns.

It was all very amusing. And wildly sexy. She still believed in the catechisms of the Catholic Church for the most part, but she was content to _live in Sin_ so long as it was with him. He was the exception to her religion, in a bit of a similar way that she had become his. Politics had usurped the position religion had once held within him. And he’d allowed her to become the exception to many of the rules of his politics. It didn’t matter  to him in the least that he had to lie about her. It made all of this a little more fun. A challenge.

He watched as she ambitiously descended upon him; and the moment he felt himself slip into the hot and wet confines of her mouth, he bit his tongue, threw his head back, and closed his eyes to keep them from rolling back. He was remarkably hard, and the sensation of her tongue working intently at covering his entire cock with saliva so she could better use her hand in union with her mouth, it was maddening. Delightfully frustrating. Each time she went down she took in a little more, not returning back up until her tongue had made multiple circuits around the shaft and had expertly worked the underside. But she never allowed him to leave her mouth entirely, her tongue paying special attention to the head. It made him want to groan. Very audibly.

Instead, he sharply inhaled through clenched teeth when he unexpectedly felt her other hand tenderly take ahold of his testicles, her fingers skillfully stimulating and massaging them, causing him to fiercely grip the bed-sheets. _Fuuck_. He always forgot she knew how to do that. However, he knew very well he had to keep his eyes closed because the view of her taking him so deep into her mouth, naked and so impassioned in her movements, would hurl him over the edge immediately. Especially with the addition of that second hand.

Except he’d reached the back of her throat which was as far as she could receive him. Now that she had his cock and her hand thoroughly lubed up, she would begin rhythmically moving the two of them together in earnest. And in the supercharged state he currently found himself, he’d no doubt deem himself lucky if he endured that treatment for a full fifteen seconds. He needed to delay her.

“Evchen, stop,” he said, his voice weak, trapped in his throat. His hand went down to her head, his fingers slipping into her wild and fluffed sex-hair. An attempt to keep her from continuing. He stole a deep breath. “Stop.”

He still didn’t dare look at her. He was trying to concentrate on work, on cars, on new architectural blueprints and models…. He was about to start searching through his memories of the masses in the streets and at the rallies. He was thinking maybe he’d find some unattractive faces in there to focus on, when he heard her mumble her rejection of “Mm-mm,” through her mouth full of his cock, shaking her head gently.

But it was the vibrations from her throat that bulleted down his solid erection that pitched him reeling back into reality. That made his grip on her hair tighten involuntarily. That pulled a sharp growl out from within his chest and threw it across the room. He was losing control. A memory of her naked and on her knees before him, doing just as she was now flashed to the surface before he could stop it. She’d held his gaze that entire time, as she so often did when he permitted himself to watch her. Her eyes, so bright and crystal clear in his mind, begged him to just let go.

Couldn’t she see he how much he wanted to? It felt _so good_ to just let go with her.

Then her mouth disappeared from his cock; and after he’d taken a minute to catch up with his breath, he allowed himself to glance down at her. She was smiling sweetly up at him, her hand leisurely stroking his engorged, pulsating member. Her mouth still titillatingly close. He could feel her breath gingerly brushing across the tip. “Let me taste you,” she repeated softly, both her eyes and her voice oversexed and laden with lust. “Please, Adi?”

He stared at her for a moment. Unblinking, unbreathing, unmoving. That look was in her eyes again. He knew instantly she was searing another memory into him. One he’d certainly use in the future when he’d been away from her for too long and required a healthy dose of self-love.

He used the hand still lost in her hair to guide her mouth back onto his straining cock with ease, and her tongue happily embraced his reentry, her lips closing around him with ardor. He let himself fall back onto the pillows, but this time he granted himself the hugely erotic sight of her going down on him with such zest. “Whatever you’d like, Tschapperl.”

She wanted his cum. She’d asked so nicely for it. So he would give it to her, with the utmost pleasure.

He enjoyed making her happy.

She immediately began stroking him off again with both her mouth and her hand, taking him as far down her throat as she could with every descent and returning all the way up to the tip each time she rose up. Her hand on his cock was enthusiastically employing her typical corkscrewing motion as it moved with her mouth. He’d been accurate in worrying about his limit earlier. The sight of her, and the divine sensations she was bestowing upon him were pushing him up the mountain unbelievably fast. He could already see that the finish line was but a few steps away. He had no power to keep himself from crossing anymore. It was only a matter of time–and not much, at that.

Then her eyes met his. So obscene in their delight. And without warning that finish line rushed past him, blowing him off his feet.

He tossed his head back. His eyes were still open and the room was still very dark, but somehow everything steadily perished to a thick, descending veil of complete and unrestricted blackness. Until not even shapes could be formed. There was only a canvas of black before his eyes. Every sound rushed from his ears. And although he could feel himself heaving savagely in both his chest and through clenched teeth, he couldn’t hear it–only a distant, high-pitched, echoed ringing bouncing between his ears. Both of his hands had moved to the bed and now pulled ferally at the sheets. And every limb of his body quickly felt light as mist: a sensation that raced from his groin all the way to the tips of his fingers and his toes and even his nose. Gravity had ceased its hold upon him and had filled his veins with fairy dust.

The orgasm that had suddenly burst forth was so intense it’d become painful. His body and his brain were confused and were frantically yelling back and forth at one another. Was he in pain, or was he in the midst of ecstasy? Was it both? The two had violently collided and his body still wasn’t sure how to handle such an acute sensation even though he’d already experienced it at her hands many, many times. But it always felt new. He never felt prepared. How could he?

But the situation was made more extreme when he abruptly felt those vibrations race through his cock again; when, from what seemed like miles away, he heard her whine with her own sexual bliss. He couldn’t stop it. He felt his teeth unlock; his back arch up off the mattress; and sounds closer to that of an animal than a man break out from his throat, beating the walls of the room. _God damnit_. He had no doubt he was making far too much noise. He had to shut up, someone would surely hear him. But he just couldn’t. He couldn’t claw his way back to sanity. His body wouldn’t let him. Not yet.

And her mouth and her hands were still on him. Her tongue was still working rapturously, her fingers still caressing magically. She was still making these little sounds indicative of her own happiness that continued to create a maddening sensation within his cock, that had him panting loudly. The pulsations bolting through his cock went on and on and on; and he finally gave up, and placed himself at the mercy of everything. Fine. What good was fighting anyway?

Let him be dragged away and drowned by euphoria.

His back fell to the mattress again with a huff. His breathing was ragged, and his throat was dry. His fingers ached from clenching the sheets so hard for so long. He still couldn’t see, not clearly at least. Everything was blurry, the world around him spinning very rapidly. He felt like he was lying in the center of a runaway carousel. His penis, still being tenderly and lovingly nursed by his beloved girl and her warm and sweet mouth, continued to throb, still semi-erect. The throbbing itself was a little painful. But the feeling it left within him was very, very good. Inebriating.

Now, all he could do was stumble around in what was left of a tilting and lurching consciousness. The threads that kept him bound to awareness and sensibility had to be restrung. They’d all been cut. And he was soaring aimlessly. He had no capacity to care about anything beyond this room. Beyond him and her. Beyond the things she was making him feel. He never wanted to leave. He decided this was to be his entire life from here on out. He would simply lie here and let her cast him into ecstasy over and over. It was all there before his hazy, shifting gaze: this would be where he would die, covered and suffocated by gross delirium.

_This is what addiction is, isn’t it. This is obsession…._

He blinked, staring up at the rotating ceiling. Oh, what a dangerous game they continued to play, he thought, willingly making themselves stupid on the regular. Was she aware of this? She had to be.

No. She’d tell him this was love. That’s why they kept doing this. That’s why it felt like this. That’s why he had no more threads.

And he hated it when she was right.

Whatever. He’d lost that argument a long time ago. He knew that.

But love wasn’t a dangerous game to her. Not like it was to him. Though at the moment, even to him it felt pretty damn great. He understood why he played the game with her. Why he willingly made himself stupid with her so often. He liked it. Quite a bit.

Finally, in a drunken and dizzying stupor, he had to reach down and gently remove her. There was nothing left in him. His strength was gone. His voice was gone. His cum was gone. And from the smug look on her face that he was having difficulty focusing on, she very well knew that. She’d gotten what she wanted. She climbed up next to him and settled right up against his overheated body, throwing one of her legs over his waist.

He looked over at her, and pushed her wild hair back from her face with weak and clumsy fingers. “Are you happy?” he asked, his voice rough and broken. He cleared his throat, but he felt that hadn’t done much. “I’m certain I roused the entire house thanks to you; perhaps the neighbors, even.” Tomorrow would be a work day. He was locking himself in his study and only coming out for meals. If that.

She smiled up at him, then kissed his shoulder. “Very happy. You always taste so yummy.” She licked the spot she’d just kissed. Even the taste of his sweat was exhilarating to her.

“I wouldn’t know anything about that. But I’ll take your word for it.” His words sounded like they were being processed by a cheese-grater before coming out of his mouth.

She snickered, her fingertips lightly playing over his lips. “That’s a first.”

He turned his body to face her, placed his palm over her lips and leaned his forehead against hers, grinning foolishly. “Hush.” He felt her smile into his hand and kiss his palm.

Then he reached down with his other hand, slipped it between her legs, and felt her silky fluids coating the insides of her thighs. “This is rather interesting,” he said, raising his glistening fingers up between the two of them. It really wasn’t. He simply liked calling attention to how wet taking him in her mouth always made her. She simply shrugged, and used the leg that was still hitched over his waist to help thrust her hips up against him, her eyes wide and entreating. She was ready for another one, and impatient to get to it.

He chuckled and shook his head. “You’re utterly impossible to keep up with. It’s fortunate I’m still functioning after all that.”

“I blame you,” she murmured from behind his fingers.

“You always blame me,” he said, removing his fingers from her mouth; but not before tapping her on the nose in the process.

She shook her head. “That’s not true. Only for sex.”

“Oh. Well, _that_ certainly makes it sound better. Thank you.”

Just then, she clambered on top of him, her knees on either side of his hips. He didn’t need his hands to feel how wet she was; she was getting her juices all over him. Not that he cared. He found it arousing: her inability to master this need for him. “If you didn’t give me such wonderful orgasms, I wouldn’t want so many.”

“Hm. You couldn’t be striving to tempt me into dissatisfying you so that I might be allowed a moment of rest,” he said facetiously, his hands resting on her thighs, fingers drawing little shapes into the supple skin. He doubted it’d work anyway. Half of this girl’s sexual gratification was located in the simple fact that it was him she was rolling around and swapping bodily fluids with. He’d have to remove himself from the equation. And he didn’t want to do that.

She was clearly on the same wavelength. “Not possible. Everything you do satisfies me,” she said softly, leaning in and putting her mouth to his; and started kissing him in a way that, even in his weakened state, he was oddly responsive to. One hand went into her hair, keeping her lips sealed tight to his, and another went to her breast, his fingers working her nipple. Her jaw opened in rhapsody, and she felt his tongue steal into her mouth.

She fell limp into his firm hold. She was so easy to work, he’d always found it a little astounding. It made her remarkably fun to have sex with.

He sat up, moving her with him; and then all at once she found herself atop the mattress, lying on her back with his mouth moving swiftly down her body. His hands moved to the inside of her knees and heedlessly threw them apart. “Mmm, what are you doing?” she asked in a faded moan, his mouth running up the inside of her thigh. He nipped at her. Sharply. She arched her back and sharply inhaled.

He crawled over her, straddling her body on all fours: hands on either side of her head, knees embracing her hips. He dove down and gave her a hard kiss on the mouth. So forceful she was stunned and made a noise. So forceful his teeth got her bottom lip, now burning and throbbing. So forceful he hit her left front tooth which now felt strange and tingly. So forceful her hands went to his shoulders and furiously tried to draw him closer.

She was so desperate to have him inside her. He had ignited the fire and she wanted him to simply let it rage until there was nothing left.

But he had a different idea in mind.

“ _My turn_ ,” he whispered savagely into her mouth, nipping at her tender lip. And she knew from the nefarious look of determination and obscene delight flashing in his eyes that he wasn’t going to let that fire rage. He wasn’t even going to let it burn. He was going to let it slowly smolder. Until she was begging him to throw open the door on that house fire.

**Author's Note:**

> A blow job with a little bit of religion thrown into the mix. I’m excited for Hell.


End file.
